


Long Gloves

by HaroThar



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 03:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16673452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaroThar/pseuds/HaroThar
Summary: Ever notice how Glimmer is quite literally always wearing gloves?





	Long Gloves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zefive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zefive/gifts).



“Bleugh!” Glimmer shouted as soon as the door was closed. “Time to get out of this awful outfit!”

“That feeling, that you’re feeling right now?” Adora said from behind her. “That’s how I feel in all your ridiculous rebel outfits.”

“But you look so cute in my cape!” Glimmer whined as she started undoing the intricate, ancient lacing on the too-poofy gown. “And most rebel fashion is _modern!_ This junk is like a thousand years old!”

“And somehow, all of it is gross,” Adora teased with a smirk and single arched eyebrow, slipping out of her own dress just as fast.

“You just don’t like things that are fun and look nice,” Glimmer said dismissively, tossing off what felt like a full castle’s worth of satin from her body, corset, skirt, underskirt, slip, gloves, stockings, decorative headgear, and lace flying off of Glimmer in a flurry and some of it hitting Adora. Adora laughed and balled up a wad of cloth and tossed it back at her. Glimmer, never one to back down, took the whole body of her extravagant skirt and whapped Adora with it like a particularly oversized pillow, and with a shriek from Adora the fight was on. They lovingly battered each other with folds upon folds of outdated cloth, giggling and leaping about Glimmer’s room, until finally Glimmer managed to tackle Adora onto the window couch.

Laughing, the two wordlessly agreed that this would mark the end of their clothy sparring, and Glimmer sat up and stretched her arms high above her head, feeling great to be able to actually move her limbs that far again.

“You know, it always surprises me whenever I remember that you’ve seen more live combat than I have,” Adora said, looking up at Glimmer with a smile on her face and her hands folded idly over her stomach.

“Yeah? I could beat you any day, Hordesman!” Glimmer teased, poking Adora in the thigh. Adora swatted her hand away and sat up as well.

“I _let_ you win. I was actually talking about these,” Adora said, taking Glimmer by the wrist and turning it over, stroking two fingers over the scars.

The scars.

Glimmer snatched her wrist back, turning away from Adora. She’d taken her gloves off. _She’d taken her gloves off!_ In front of Adora! Tears pricked at her eyes, shoulders hunching up, her body between her arms and her friend like she might somehow prevent this all from happening, even though it was already too late.

“Glimmer?” Adora asked, confused concern plain in her voice. 

Glimmer didn’t move. Couldn’t move. She couldn’t--she didn’t know how--this--

“Glimmer?” Adora repeated, louder, less confused and more alarmed, placing her hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. 

“It’s nothing,” Glimmer said sharply, standing up on mechanical legs. She stalked forward robotically, looking for her gloves, her gloves, where were her fucking gloves?

“I’m… sorry,” Adora said softly, trailing after her. The words cut like Glimmer’s ever familiar knife. She was upsetting Adora. Worse, she was making Adora feel like this was something she’d done wrong. Glimmer _knew_ Adora worried constantly about overstepping, about how she was Horde raised and didn’t know things about being a normal person and had anxiety about messing up. It wasn’t fair to Adora that Glimmer was acting this way, but she _needed_ to get her gloves back on. She needed them. She’d find some lie to tell Adora and make this all okay later, but right then she needed--Her gloves! There they were! Oh, but these were just the short pair, where was the longer left glove? She had scars halfway up her bicep on her left arm, she needed the under-glove, she needed--where was it where was it?

“Glimmer, please, I’m--sorry! I didn’t mean to--” Adora trailed off, not knowing what it was she’d done.

“It’s _fine,”_ Glimmer asserted, casting about for her under-glove.

“Glimmer, hey, talk to me I don’t know, I can’t,” Adora tried again, reaching out and grabbing Glimmer’s left arm at the elbow, and recoiled just fast enough to miss getting hit when Glimmer whirled and tried to slap her hand away, eyes wide and on the floor, shimmering with unshed tears.

“... do you,” Glimmer started quietly, “think they’re ugly?” Stupid question, stupid girl. What was she even asking? How could that possibly be relevant to the situation at hand?!

“Th--I, wh--the scars?” Adora asked at length, confusion deep between her pretty eyebrows. 

Glimmer nodded, feeling a little bitter. What else was half as ugly?

“N…o?” Adora said haltingly. “Not…” Adora’s shoulders slumped, like they had at talk of parties and aunts. “Glimmer I don’t understand.”

“My scars. They’re ugly.”

“Okay… how?”

Glimmer snorted, but it held no real mirth. “Because they are?”

“I’m really lost.”

“Well, what do you think scars are?” Glimmer snapped, shoving her arms out between them so the scars were on display, angry for no reason and knowing she had no right.

“Scars?” Adora said, voice tilting up in pitch. “They’re just. Body parts? Like fingernails? I don’t--how would they be ugly? Or pretty, for that matter?” Adora asked with her arms flung out to her sides, loose strands of hair falling in her face.

Glimmer stared at her, lower lip wobbling, arms curling in closer to her chest once again, and then broke out in a single sob that might’ve been a wail and crashed forward into Adora’s open arms, forehead burying into Adora’s shoulder. “Sorry,” she whined, arms around Adora’s waist. “Sorry, just. I guess I’m kinda self conscious about them. I don’t want people to judge me.”

“Hey,” Adora said gently, arms around Glimmer’s shoulders. “No judgement. Just. Confusion.” Adora led them back to the couch and Glimmer sat down next to her, resting her head on Adora’s shoulder with her arms inside-up on her lap, scars plain for them both to see.

“You think I got these in combat,” Glimmer said, a little miserable.

“...I did, but you saying that makes me feel like that’s wrong.”

Glimmer snorted again.

“I did this to myself,” she said, and braced herself for Adora’s reaction. Now that she knew, the judgement would come. Surely.

“What? Why?” Adora asked, and maybe her voice was more panicked and worried than judgemental, but if it was, Glimmer couldn’t hear it that way.

“Oh y’know, the usual stuff. I’m not good enough, nothing I ever do will be good enough, Bow’s my only friend because nobody likes me and why would they, mom will never respect me and sometimes it feels like she’s more concerned with the idea of a daughter than she is in me, I’ll never measure up, I can’t control my powers and my powers are useless anyway, I’m awkward and no good and,” Glimmer shrugged, tracing a pale scar with her fingers, “y’know. Stuff.”

“Glimmer,” Adora said, and Glimmer felt the tears almost fall, ready for Adora’s confirmation of everything she just said about herself, when the powerful, bone-crushing hug caught her off guard. “None of that is true!”

Glimmer sniffed audibly. “I know. Or, sometimes I do. But sometimes,” her voice was a high whine, and she choked on her words, “sometimes it’s really hard.”

Glimmer hugged Adora back, tight as her tears escaped, despite her best efforts to lock them down. “It’s better, now. I’m--I don’t do it as much, anymore. Things are okay. But. I’m still ashamed of...y’know. The scars. I don’t want other people to know about them.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Adora promised. “And,” she said, pulling back and looking Glimmer in the eye, “if you ever feel that way, any of those ways, again, I’m here for you okay?”

Glimmer sniffed loudly and wiped at her eyes, a small smile on her face. “Yeah,” she said around the lump in her throat. “Thanks, Adora.”

Adora looked at her, eyes darting over Glimmer’s face, and she bit her lip before saying, “In the Horde, crying is a sign of weakness, and nobody does it. Not even Kyle cries anymore. But I think, maybe that’s dumb, and,” Adora spread her arms open wide, stiff and awkward but painfully earnest, “if you need to cry, then maybe you should just. Let it out.”

Glimmer nodded and rocked forward into Adora’s chest again, arms curling around her like a comfort item, and when Adora’s hands came to rest between her wings and buried in her hair, she let it out. She hadn’t even known she needed a good cry, especially not over these old wounds, but on top of everything that had been happening to her lately it all came to a point and so she let herself just weep. Weep into the arms of her friend, her hero, her She-ra. Her Adora.

“Thanks,” Glimmer said after she’d calmed down, curling to the side and lifting her arm, staring at the scars.

“Anytime,” Adora promised, lips against her hair.


End file.
